


You Have One New Message

by s_a_m



Series: Those Are The Days That Bind Us [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Companion Piece, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Obsessive Behavior, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_a_m/pseuds/s_a_m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A flash in the corner of John’s eye caught his attention. The home phone had a message.  He hit play. ‘You have one new message.’</p><p>“Uh, hey Dad. It’s uh, its Stiles.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Have One New Message

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all!
> 
> I wrote this semi in tandem with TATDTBU. A lot of you commented on the main story wishing that you could see more of the pack's reaction to Stiles being gone. Obviously with TATDTBU being Stiles-centric, I couldn't. This fic is for the most part John-centric, but some of the pack get their due. (;
> 
> Enjoy!  
> s_a_m

John threw his keys onto the messy kitchen table. The jangling sound they made on the false wood surface echoed through the room. Silence followed.

The case files on the table were gritty with dust when he reached out to handle them. He hadn’t put them away in over a year. It didn’t matter that there hadn’t been any new leads in months. Every day after work he sat down and went over what little he had:

The testimony of a chop shop owner who bought a blue Jeep.

The eye witness account of a bus driver who noticed a kid hitching to the next town.

The story of a car dealer hocking a junker to a kid because he needed the lot space.

Then nothing. He just vanishes. There were dozens of sightings at first, when he had first put up the missing person posters. Each one had been diligently run down by one of his deputies. Each was nothing but a false lead. Eventually he couldn’t justify the continued use of the county’s money when it was clear his son wasn’t going to be found.

It didn’t stop him from resending posters to all the appropriate centers every few months. Every time he sent them out further and further and by the time a year had passed, he was having them posted in every state in the continental U.S. No one called anymore, not even the assholes who grab his number for solicitation.

He set the files back down, pressed his palms against the table and leaned heavily. He was tired. So very tired. His job was exhausting, dealing with the pack was exhausting, and missing Stiles was exhausting. But most of all, the guilt was exhausting.

 _It’s like you’re not my son anymore_.

He sighed deeply and pushed away from the table. A flash in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The home phone had a message. He hit play.

‘You have one new message.’

 

*

 

He called Danny first, demanded to know if the call could be traced. Danny said he would work on it, ask Jackson and Lydia to come pick him up on the way over. His next call was to Scott. He said he would get Allison and Boyd, then swing by to pick up Erica. John’s third call was to Derek who promised to leave Peter out of it. His last call was to Deaton and the placid Druid expressed his interest in coming over as well.

While he waited John listened to the message again and again.

Stiles had called.

His son was alive.

They arrived in twos and threes, frantic. Danny arrived with Lydia and Jackson last. Derek was growling and Scott was pacing. The other werewolves fidgeted and snarled at each other in agitation. Only Deaton sat quietly, absolutely patient.

John hit play. ‘You have one saved message,’ the machine proclaimed and then beeped as the message started playing. For a moment there was only static and the background sounds of a busy street.

“ _Uh, hey Dad. It’s uh, its Stiles_.” Every member of the pack flinched. Scott whined in the back of his throat and Derek rumbled in this chest. The betas all whimpered. Allison sighed in relief. It was Stiles. It was his voice. They heard Stiles’ breath catch faintly, like he could hardly believe he was calling. He cleared his throat.

“ _I saw one of the missing posters you’re having put up for me. You can stop that. I’m not missing. I’m okay. I just couldn’t stay there, not with- not with the way things were. With, you know, all that stuff._ ”

“What does that even mean?” Lydia hissed. Jackson shushed her.

“ _Um, Dad I was- I wasn’t thinking straight, when I left. I just-I needed so bad to get out, just get away from you and from Derek and from Scott, and everyone else. I’m sorry I left the way I did. But I’m_ ,” they could hear it as Stiles swallowed hard, “ _I’m not sorry that I did leave. I needed space. And time_. _And I’m sorry but, I still do. I’m still upset, and I’m still pissed and I don’t think I can handle seeing you or any of them yet. So, I guess I just wanted to call, let you know I was alright, and that I don’t know when I’ll be back. If I’ll ever be back._ ” Stiles was quiet for a long time after that, the message filled with the sounds of a city and his quiet, even breathing. Eventually he cleared his throat again.

“ _I don’t know if I’ll call you again. So, I guess I just, um. Good-bye._ ” There was a click as Stiles hung up, the faint static cutting out.

‘End of message. There are no more messages.’

“What did that even mean?” Lydia demanded again, voice shrill. “What did he mean he was still pissed at all of us?”

“Did we- did someone do something. To him. Or say something?” Isaac’s voice was small and scared. A little guilty.

“I told him-” John broke off. He leaned over and pressed his forehead to his palms.

“I was so angry with him. We argued. I mean- werewolves? Really?” John laughed bitterly. “God, all the lies. It was like he wasn’t my son anymore. And I said that to him. I told him he wasn’t the son I knew anymore.

“I saw the look on his face. I saw the way it hurt him. But I was so angry, I told myself I’d talk to him in the morning. But he was gone. He was just gone. Jesus Christ, _Stiles_.”

 

*

 

Danny didn’t get anywhere with the phone records. Stiles had used a payphone on Hennepin Ave. in Minneapolis, Minnesota at 2:23pm that day. And that was all he knew.

 

*

 

Seven months later the Sheriff saw a flashing light and hit play. Four hours later Deaton was sitting in his living room when he hit play for the twenty-second time.

“ _Hey, Dad. It’s Stiles._ ” There was a short, static filled pause. “ _I don’t actually know why I called this time. I did see that all the pictures of me were down. So, I guess, thanks for that. And, um, well it’s been seven months. I guess a year and seven months._ ”

“ _Huh. My class must be getting ready for graduation by now. Yeah, it’s just into May._ ” There was a heavy sigh. “ _I suppose I could get my GED. I don’t know if I’ll do college. I don’t really want to anymore. If I did it’d probably be a technical thing. But I don’t really see the point. I just don’t know, Dad. I don’t know a lot anymore. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve already told Scott and the others that I’ve called. But I guess if you haven’t, you could. If you wanted. Oh,_ ” Stiles said, changing tracks suddenly, “ _Make sure you tell that asshole Deaton that I found someone a thousand times better than his snobby ass. Fucking, stuck up Drui- Veterinarians_. _So yeah. Bye_.”

‘End of message. You have two saved messages.’

“So,” John said, deceptively quiet, “What exactly did he mean by that?”

Ever unflappable, the Druid spread his hands in placation.

“Stiles had a spark, the potential to become a powerful magic user. I tried to instruct him. When he failed to follow the rules I had laid out for him, I told him I could no longer be his teacher.” He gestured at the answering machine. “His call would indicate that during his time away from us he found another to teach him.”

“Rules?” John’s hands were white on the arms of his chair.

“Magic is not a trifling thing. It requires discipline. The first few years of learning are critical. He over stepped the bounds I set for him when he cast the rotting spell on the Alpha pack. As such I wasn’t able to continue his instruction.”

“You…” John stared at Deaton in disbelief. “You told my son he had to learn something at the exact pace and in the exact way you told him to. While he was struggling to keep his friends from dying. And you honestly expected him to just obediently follow your _rules_?”

“It was, I know now, an oversight on my part.” Deaton admitted.

“‘An oversight’, he says,” John breathed mockingly. He rubbed a hand over his face. “You told Stiles that he could learn magic, but only at your say so and when that forces him to go behind your back to use that magic to save his pack, you cut ties with him?”

“I was thinking in the long term, Sheriff. If Stiles wanted to pursue his magical abilities he would have needed-”

“Stiles was seventeen! A _teenager_ , Alan. You expected him to think of the long term while his friends were missing? And his pack was under threat?”

“No, I should not have. Stiles is… brilliant and inquisitive.” Deaton tipped his head back, looked at a ceiling instead of the Sheriff. “I treated him the way I would have any Druid initiate. But Stiles is not a Druid, neither in nature nor in magic. I should have known better than to try and make him adapt to the most… convenient mold. By the time I realized my misstep, he was gone.”

“When did you tell Stiles that you wouldn’t teach him anymore?” Deaton closed his eyes and his shoulder slumped slightly.

“Perhaps two weeks before his departure.” He said quietly.

John buried his face in his hands.

It was scarcely a consolation that his own cruel words weren’t the only cause of Stiles’ flight, but he was relieved nonetheless.

 

*

 

“ _Dad, its Stiles. She was going to kill me, so she fucking deserved it. I know she fucking did but- Jesus Christ. Bye._ ”

‘End of message. There are no more new messages. You have three saved messages.’

John doesn’t share this one with the others.

 

*

 

“ _Hey Dad, its Stiles. I’m calling because. Well. Um._ ” John can practically see Stiles chewing his lip and rubbing his head.

“ _I just_ -” the words are bursting out of his son, in that way where he has to get all the words out in a rush or they won’t come out at all.

“ _It’s just there was this kid. Not, like, a little kid. He was like fifteen, or whatever. Actually he might be older, but he looked like he was fifteen ‘cuz he wasn’t exactly hu- I mean he’s kinda, other-ish, you know? But anyway his family was kind of fucked up and like they wanted him to take this one girl as his bride, or something, but this kid, he didn’t like girls. Like at all. So he told his family, said he would never have kids or whatever because he’d never, you know, sleep with a woman. And they just-_ ” Stiles’ voice cuts out and John can hear him, breath panting, trying to control himself.

“ _They beat him, Dad. His own parents. They were going to kill him. I could see it in- in their eyes. They were really going to… I got him out. I know some people. Good people. They got the kid to somewhere safe, to a family that will take care of him. And I just… how do you deal with it Dad? How do you not just… just kill every last evil fucker that you come across?_ ”

There was a long silence and John sipped at his whisky and fiddled with the half bottle he had left, waiting for Stiles to collect his thoughts.

“ _The place I am. The… the world I’m in. There is no law, Dad, not really. I mean, hunters have their Code or whatever. But everyone knows to keep their head down, to keep the mundane from cluing in. And I’m… like my man Dredd, I am the law. When someone is fucking up, they call me or someone like me before codeless hunters can come in and screw everything sideways. And I fix it. And this case, it made me think…_ _would you have hit me? You were so angry, Dad. Did you want to hit me?_ ”

There was more silence, and then the machine beeped.

By morning, the whiskey bottle is empty.

 

*

 

Scott sat in John’s living room, holding Allison’s hand tightly. He listened to the lengthy message Stiles left with rapt attention.

 _“…God, Dad, you should have seen the look on that bastards face!”_ Stiles’ laughter slowly faded. _“Shit. Scott would have loved it.”_ Scott perked up even more at the sound of his name. It was Allison who saw John shift, bracing himself. She squeezed Scott’s hand.

 _“Some asshole getting shown up by a kid. The best.”_ Stiles sighed into the mouthpiece. There was a shuffling sound and then very near to the phone, a bird’s call. A short silence followed.

 _“Dad, Scott was such a fucking hypocrite.”_ Scott jerked like he’d been punched in the gut. _“Jesus. What the fuck? I needed him and he blew me off. I thought we were best friends and you just- and then Allison-”_ Stiles choked on his breath. _“If we ever see each other again the first words out of your mouth had better be a fucking apology, man. We’ve been friends since we were four, you asshole. I gave you my shovel so you could dig a moat for your castle in the sand box. I deserved better than you shouting at me and not talking to me you absolute fuck head! Christ. Bye.”_

“Oh my God.” Scott whispered and sagged into Allison. She nuzzled gently at his ear, her own lips pinched tight. Scott turned to John and stood abruptly, ripping out of Allison’s arms. Then he dropped back in to his seat. Allison pressed his shoulder.

“Is that why he left? Because I-”

“No, son.” John said gently, taking the armchair near the sofa. “It’s more than that. I think… I think there was a lot going on with Stiles. And a lot of people hurt him. He must not have felt like he could turn to anyone. When it was too much, he just-” John scrubbed at the light stubble on his face.

“He had to get out of here.” Allison finished quietly, “Like he said in his first call. He just had to get out. We pushed him away, so he left.” She ran a hand down Scott’s arm. “What else is there to say?”

 

*

 

John knows Stiles isn’t telling him everything. Sometimes he slips, mentions people or places that John doesn’t know.

It’s both unbearable and comforting.

He’s heard Stiles talk about some of the things he’s done, the monsters he’d killed. And it’s the worst feeling it the world to think that his baby boy is-

But, that Stiles makes the slips at all means, in his mind, his father knows everything. John is part of his daily life, is in his thoughts. It means there’s hope, however small, that his son might come home one day.

 

 

*

 

It’s only when he convinces himself that there’s a chance that Stiles might walk through his front door at any moment that he can pull himself out of the bottom of his whisky bottle.

He doesn’t want Stiles to see him like that again.

 

*

 

In his darker moments he wonders, if it had been him instead of Claudia, would this have happened at all?

 

*

 

 _“God, Dad, it was beautiful._ ” Stiles’ words slurred a little. In the background, John could just make out the crack of a clean break on a pool table and the thumping base of a song.

“ _They aren’t any bigger than your thumb, and they only live for a day. But they shine so bright, Dad. Not like a light, not even like the sun they just… they glow. Shimmer and glitter and all the other pretty words for lighting up from the inside. A whole cave full of them. They feed off the stone. All they need is a piece the size of a sesame seed. I think I said before that the world was full of evil shits. And I’m not taking it back but, the evil things don’t take up all the space, you know? So I guess… that’s why you do it._ ”

John listened to his son breathe, heart aching.

“ _You wouldn’t have hit me. I’m sorry I asked. You probably just wanted- needed- some space to cool down, figured we’d work it out later. But Dad, you said- why did you say I wasn’t-_ ”

The machine cut off Stiles’ voice.

 

*

 

The ones where Stiles doesn’t quite manage to finish asking are the hardest.

 

*

 

“ _I am friends with a leprechaun who is six foot seven. What is my life?_ ” Stiles laughed and then hissed in pain.

“ _Ow. Fuck. I am so hung-over. Why did I think I could drink him under the table? He’s fucking Irish. Oh my god._ ” There was a dramatic groan and the sound of shuffling.

“ _Anyway, I think he’s a good one. I don’t get to meet a lot of good ones. I did a few times at the beginning, when I was first traveling. But less so now. I think it’s because I’m good at what I do. I’m like a mafia fixer. I always seem to be where shit needs getting done. But you know, I don’t think I mind it. Because of people like my Irish friend, and my lamia friend and my witch friend and my witch doctor friend_.”

John felt his heart sink. Stiles sounded happy. He hated himself a little for being sad his son was happy. Then he realized the silence was stretching on pointedly. He braced himself.

“ _I get where they were coming from. That’s the thing that burns the most. They had been kidnapped and tortured, and I know they weren’t in a good place. But I wasn’t in a good place either. We could have helped each other. We weren’t friends, not really. But once they learned how much time we spent looking for them I thought they would…_ ” a frustrated sigh. In his mind’s eye he could see his son as a sixteen year old boy, running his hands over his buzzed hair in exasperation.

“ _Same with Lydia and Jackson. I know they were trying to fix what was between them, but, God, they were almost as bad as Scott when he first met Allison. Pining endlessly, risking his life and the lives of others to see her. They didn’t see me. And I can’t… I mean it’s not like I said anything, but didn’t they notice when I stopped showing up to pack meetings? Wasn’t I worth the effort to ask ‘why?’ Wasn’t I worth a two minute phone call to check in?_

 _“So. New friends. And they seem like good ones. I’ve been proven wrong before, but I’d like to think I’ve grown since then. That my instincts are a little better. Anyway, I’m almost out of change. Bye, Dad._ ”

‘End of message.’

John picked up the phone. There were people who needed to hear this. As he waited for Isaac to pick up, the cop part of him absently tallied up the numbers, and compared the lists in his head.

Only Derek was left now.

 

*

 

He had stopped trying to seriously trace the calls around message twenty-six.

There was no point.

It was always a payphone in a city. By the time he convinced the local LEOs to look into it, Stiles was long gone. They found his cars sometimes, abandoned and wiped clean. He was a cop’s kid after all. They occasionally got a few grainy security footage shots, but nothing that gave them a way to find Stiles. And besides- he was told over and over by lawyers and other cops and his own sympathetic but exasperated deputies- by now his son was an adult and if the Sheriff was getting calls that confirmed his health and there were no concerns of coercion by kidnappers? There wasn’t any reason to be using police resources to find him.

 

*

 

His deputies knew about the calls, of course, They turned a blind eye when the Sheriff requisitioned the call tracing equipment and never turned it back in.

His traces were out of a desperate curiosity now. He needed to _know_. The files on his kitchen table were put away and in their place was a map of the United States. It was covered in post-it notes and sticker dots, marking all the places Stiles had called from. There were bullet points outlining what Stiles had talked about, any back ground noise that seemed relevant.

Every message was backed up three different ways and there was a drawer in his home’s filing cabinet that was accumulating the hard copy transcripts of the calls. Second copies were in his home gun safe.

Tracking the places where Stiles had been, eating up the scant details of his life and memorizing the dates and times of his calls; it was all that John had left.

 

*

 

Derek sat with his elbows braced on his knees, his chin resting on his fists. John hit play.

“ _Dad, its Stiles. None of them even looked at me._ ” It was obvious Stiles was drunk.

“ _A whole bar full of gay, gay men and I’m not any ones type. So stupid. This is stupid. I am a catch. I am awesome. I deserve so much sex for how awesome I am_.” Stiles hiccupped. “ _And fuck you for letting me kiss you_.” Derek flinched at the sudden accusation.

“ _You growly, beautiful bastard with your, your fucking eyebrows. You’re so gorgeous when you laugh like you mean it. Dad, Dad, are you listening? That asshole let me kiss him, Dad._ ” Stiles sniffed.

“ _It was my first kiss, too_.” Another flinch from Derek. “ _You dick. It was good. It was really good. I knew that then. And I know now ‘cuz I’ve kissed lots of guys. So I know it was good. It could have-_ ” Stiles’ voice chokes up.

“ _I wanted it, I did. I wanted you and then you said I was just a kid and what did I know? Like I hadn’t earned the fucking right to my own feelings after all the shit with wolves and lizards and stabbing and shit. You fucker, you were so good. A good Alpha. God. You were beautiful. I didn’t know you could laugh like that. Why didn’t I know you could laugh like that? It was… you were happy. I wanted to make you happy._ ” Derek pressed his face into his hands.

“ _I wanted to make you laugh all the time because you deserved to be happy. And if I wasn’t the one who was going to make you happy, if you didn’t want me to make you happy then you could have just said so. You didn’t need to- to make me feel like shit. Worthless._

“ _I liked you. I liked you so much. Thought maybe I could love you too. But you just… you broke my heart_.” Stiles starts crying at he speaks; painful little sobs that kill both of the men listening to him. “ _Hurt so much. Why did you do that to me? I thought we were pack. Weren’t we? I tried you know, I tried to be useful. I wasn’t good then at fighting or anything like that. But I was learning magic. I wanted to be strong for the pack. For you. ‘Cuz you were my Alpha and maybe you were more, but then you- why did you have to ignore me?_

 _“They were all ignoring me, were treating me like an outsider, like I wasn’t pack. Was I ever pack? Did I just imagine the bonds? The warm, wiggly things in my chest?_ _I just don’t understand. Why would you all do that to me? Why would you- wasn’t I good enough? Hadn’t I proved my loyalty? Did you not like me anymore?_ ”

‘End of message. You have no more new messages.’

Derek left without saying anything.

 

*

 

They had believed in his invulnerability, in his adaptability. And in doing so missed the obvious fact that he was breakable. They had forgotten that he was just a kid too.

They broke him. They lost him. And there wasn’t any way to fix it all now.

 

 

*

 

“ _Well, I’m never going to trust another Fae again_.” Stiles’ voice was rough, like he’d been crying. “ _So if you ever meet one, don’t trust them Dad. Liars and tricksters all. Christ, I feel like an idiot. Bye_.”

John’s arms ached to wrap around his boy and comfort him. He downed a shot of whisky instead and then drained the bottle down the sink.

He knew he wouldn’t have stopped.

 

*

 

“ _I,_ ” Stiles declared to the trashed and bloodstained living room, “ _am so bad ass. I am the baddest. Well, I will be. You know, in a few months, I guess. Thank God for ghosts willing to do anything to get laid… to rest, that is._ ” Stiles sniggered.

John wiped the blood from his brow and flopped down onto his back. Scott dropped to his knees, one hand pressed to his abdomen trying to keep his guts from spilling out. Isaac wept quietly holding the body of his father, now twice dead. Derek yanked his hand out of the Bokor’s chest. Boyd snapped his talisman, a symbol of Baron Samedi, in half. Lydia let Jackson hold her.

Erica asked, “You going to answer it?”

John replied, “No. He’ll just hang up.”

“ _I killed a nest of pixies the other day. Well, a while ago, really._ ” There was a faint ping as the equipment hooked up to the phone line finished its trace on the call. “ _They were killing kids, and they couldn’t be reasoned with, so I killed them_.” There’s a long pause. A bird sounds in the background, scolding. “ _I remember being so shaken up when I killed Deucalion. I could barely eat. Hardly slept. Now I just… I kill like it means nothing. I don’t even know how many lives I’ve taken._ ” Stiles sighed deeply.

“ _Well. No point now trying to justify or crucify myself. They were hurting people so I killed them. Feeling bad about it won’t bring them back. Punishing myself won’t bring them back. And I’m sure as hell not gonna stop, not when I’m saving lives too. What does that make you think of me, Dad?_ ” the sound of a phone being placed back in its cradle clicked over the line. The machine beeped faintly and the ‘new message’ light started to flash.

“I think you’ve grown up and you’re doing the best that you can while making hard choices. And I wish to God you didn’t have to, Stiles.” John said to the ceiling, and closed his eyes. The pack let him pretend the tears were because his shoulder was dislocated.

He was pathetically grateful.

 

*

 

“ _He was my friend. He was my- I couldn’t- tried to, but I couldn’t- Daddy, I couldn’t-_ ”

The rest of the call is Stiles weeping.

John cries too; for himself and for his son.

 

*

 

“ _It is literally the creepiest thing_.” Stiles declared dramatically. John bounced Abigail on his knee. The baby giggled and made grabby hands at his face. He obliged and let the little girl get hold of his nose.

“ _It’s like, they’re everywhere. Literally. Just. Fuck me, it’s so weird._ ” Stiles groaned. Erica snorted dismissively and folded another cloth diaper. Lydia hummed in agreement and peered at the diapers with disgust, rubbing the small bump on her belly.

“ _Like, people die all the time. I know that. Everyone knows that. We live in a country that’s been fully inhabited coast to coast for, like, a hundred years or whatever. And people have been dying the whole time. And they leave echoes everywhere. In a city it’s like walking through a sea of dead people. Getting to factually state ‘I see dead people’ is not worth this much headache._ ”

“Idiot,” Melissa said fondly.

“ _Ugh. I can barely tell the difference between real people and fake people anymore. I know the psychic said it would take a while but it’s been three weeks. If I can’t tell what I’m looking at I can’t work. If I can’t work I don’t make money. If I don’t make money I don’t eat._ ”

John’s head snapped up.

“ _No, don’t worry, Dad. I’m not going to starve._ ” They could hear the smile in Stiles voice. “ _If worst come to worst, I’ve got friends who will feed me. And I’m sure Silas will give me back that shop job if I ask nicely. So anyway, I mostly just wanted to get the chance to say I see dead people. I see dead people. Bye._ ” The line cut out.

 

*

 

He only shared a couple of the messages with the pack. Except for the few, all of them were addressed to John. Every once in a great while he would pick one or two where Stiles tells a funny story and invite the pack over to hear it.

They listen greedily.

 

*

 

He covers the map when the pack comes over, but he thinks some of them suspect he’s not sharing all the messages.

No one calls him out on it.

He’s grateful they let him have this with his son.

 

*

 

He has to get a second map, and then a third, as they filled up. Stiles hits every state at least once, most of them five or six times; some even more. He even went out to Alaska and Hawaii once or twice.

When he has trouble getting a sticker to stay, he dusts the map. But he never puts it away.

 

*

 

Faeries, John reflected one morning after a swing shift, were just as awful as Stiles had once described. He dropped his belt on the couch and was about to follow it to put his feet up when he saw he had one new message. He hit play.

“ _John, its Scott. I saw Stiles. He was here, in Beacon Hills_.” John becomes aware he’s on his knees, staring up at the answering machine. “ _I don’t know why, but he was really here. I swear! We’re looking for him now. Call when you get this._ ”

‘End of message. You have no more new messages.’

He’s in jeans and a BHSD tee-shirt on his way out the door when the phone rings. He swears out loud.

“Hello, this is John Stilinski.” He answers impatiently.

“Hey, Dad. It’s Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> A second part to TATDTBU is in the works. No idea when it will be done. So, I'll see you when I see you. (:


End file.
